The sun rises in the east.
The alarm rings once—and is silenced before it can ring again.
Hastora turns it off without opening his eyes.
There is no reason to wake up earlier, and no reason to wake up later. Today is no different from yesterday, and tomorrow will be no different either.
He gets ready, eats a simple breakfast, and heads to school without rushing.
In class, no one greets him.
It is not hatred. Nor is it fear.
Only distance.
His family name is well-known enough to be avoided, but not important enough to be talked about.
His father was a separatist who joined a rebel group seven years ago, and died after being shot by military special forces.
That caused their family to be shunned and ostracized by others.
His mother also received harsh treatment from the public.
For four years, insults and mockery followed her everywhere—until depression claimed her life.
Hastora became an orphan because of that incident.
He is an only child. With both parents gone, he lives alone in a small apartment.
Even his relatives refused to take responsibility for him.
Forced by circumstances, he has to work while studying to pay for the apartment and cover his living needs.
At school, from elementary to high school, he has been shunned and ostracized by other children because he is known as the child of a separatist.
That makes it difficult for him to interact and socialize at school, and it also makes him a person who is used to being alone and doing everything by himself.
But he does not really care about that; he also does not care about things around him—whether it is insults or hurtful words, he never pays any attention to them at all and goes about his days as usual.
Upon arriving at school, Hastora sits in his seat, listens to the lessons, takes notes as needed, then waits for the dismissal bell like everyone else—without ever truly being part of them.
When the final bell rings, Hastora stands up immediately.
He has no particular place to go, only the usual route he takes.
He walks through the school gate alone, as always.
Then, in the middle of his steps, something feels… wrong.
The sky is never cloudy in that city.
Because of that, Hastora stops mid-step.
The air grows heavy, as if the world itself is holding its breath.
The street is empty. Sounds have vanished. Fog descends without warning, swallowing buildings one by one.
He does not panic.
People who are used to living as shadows are not easily surprised by strange things.
But when a circle of light opens in the air—not on the ground, not in the sky, but between the two—panic surges through him, even though he himself looks completely unpanicked.
"What is this?"
Hastora covers his eyes with his hand when suddenly the circle of light begins to emit an extremely bright glow.
"Ugh, this is blinding."
The longer it goes on, the brighter and brighter the light becomes, leaving Hastora unable to see anything at all.
"Damn it, this—"
He cannot finish his words when suddenly the light becomes so bright it looks like an explosion, and takes him away from that place.
***
Hastora wakes up with a ragged breath.
His chest rises and falls rapidly, as if his lungs have just remembered how to work.
A few seconds pass before his gaze focuses, before the world takes shape again.
"What happened?"
Moonlight illuminates the night sky; he finds himself under a large tree. He sits up, then looks around him.
"Huh?"
He has never seen this place before. This world feels completely foreign to him.
In front of him stands a building with such unique architecture, like the building architecture of the Victorian era.
Suddenly he feels pain in his chest; he quickly clutches his chest and finds blood staining his shirt and chest.
"How can there be blood here? Did someone attack me?"
He ponders for a moment—there are no wounds on his chest. It is impossible for blood to appear without a wound.
"Did I… die?"
Yes, that is possible. But… it also sounds very ridiculous. How could anyone come back from the dead? He has lived for 17 years and has never seen or heard of anyone rising from the dead.
Putting that aside, there are more important things to think about now. Just where exactly is this place? Is this another world?
This is truly strange—first, the sky turned cloudy in a city that is never cloudy; second, thick fog appeared; third, the circle of light showed up; and now, a foreign place?
Staying here would change nothing.
If answers existed, he would have to seek them himself.